


Close as the Forest Trees

by IObse33



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Friendship, In Hiding, No Plot/Plotless, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racers, Some Plot, forest setting, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IObse33/pseuds/IObse33
Summary: hidden in the forest to avoid being recaptured, we visit a morning with Chick and Dale, the human that was always there for him. A study into their closeness and trust, and daily routine as runaways from the cruel and unforgiving racing world.
Kudos: 7
Collections: Inequal





	Close as the Forest Trees

**Author's Note:**

> This story is exactly as the summary says. Chick ran away from being an owned racer, and Dale, a mechanic that worked for Chicks owner, fled with him.

Dale always woke early, a habit instilled from years of long grueling work on repairing vehicles. It is the crack of dawn, the far horizon streaked with a singular pinstripe of pink, hidden by a forest of trees. All Dale can see is the slight gradient from pitch black middle sky to periwinkle blue just above the silhouette of trees. A thick mix of varying coniferous trees, only a few feet no more than three between each trunk. When they'd entered the forest they'd not expected it to become so dense. As of such, traveling was slow and even now it was near pitch-black on the forest floor. If Chick where a slightly darker shade of green instead of summer lime, he'd blend in perfectly with the shadowy surroundings. 

Chick, the car Dale had freed and fled with. The car had been coated in a quilt of sponsor stickers, his one true collection of trophies, support from sponsors making approval for all his hard work and struggle. Now all those were hastily painted over with the closest matching shade of green that had been available at the time. 

Dale rolls over from his side onto his stomach, hugging himself in spite of the uncomfortableness that comes with laying upon metal. He is cloaked in a thick winter coat quickly running thin. Most of his heat was sourced from Chicks engine, who's hood Dale dozed upon through morning. Come the middle of the night Dale would migrate within the cab of Chick, turning on the heater for greater comfort. It was a delicate balance. They could find ways to afford refilling on gas, but could not yet save up for jumper cables and a spare battery. And even when they do, they'd have to be in the vicinity of other cars willing to share battery power to get Chick going again. Still, it would be useful. For now, on particularly cold nights they had to sacrifice gas to run the heater without draining Chicks battery. 

They are gonna try and get some jumper cables today via theft and menial tasks. Simple pickpocketing for theft. Dale does not like to think he is one to endorse criminal activity, and yet he worked for the racing business for years. Perhaps he worked to fix cars then, but fixed them only so they could be broken again. Dale traces a small dent on Chicks hood, one inflicted from a metal pipe that couldn't quite be worked out perfectly. 

An hour passes and the black sky is melted away by pink and yellow, cooled into Robin egg blue. Even so, the forest is dark, the overhang of branches dense and leaving the floor a dancing dapple of sparse sunlight. At the right angle on foggy mornings you could see the sunbeams sway as well. 

Chicks motor shuts off, so he is due to wake in the next moment or two. Dale groans and makes his way off the boxy car, lest he be thrown by the vehicle's violent waking. As predicted, Chick wakes with a jump, and a snarl. His eyes swing about wildly, unfocused, and his engine starts again with a long rev. He lands his sight on Dale with another growl, who swallows any instinct to run, lacking true fear, and instead raises his hands in surrender. The car draws near, both creatures laden with laboured breath. Finally, Chicks moustache shaped grill only inches from Derek's hands, teeth bared, recognition floods the ex-racer, and he pulls back, trembling viciously. Dale sighs and slowly makes his way to his feet. 

They need to get out of this forest. Chick always woke like this upon running away. Terror at not recognizing his location, fear that he was found in his sleep by the past employees, seeing Dale and only recognizing him as the employee he used to be and thus as a threat. It's normal. What's abnormal is Chick stalking Dale in his craze after waking, and it has only gotten worse in time with the forest thickening. A case of claustrophobia stricken paranoia. 

Now Dale slowly approaches Chick, role reversal. The car shakes still, and slowly Dale lowers the palm of his hands on Chicks hood. The car calms, gradually, and kills his own engine. Dale waits as the car evens out his heavy breathing. Finally, Chick calms, and immediately pouts, looking like yet another snarl but Dale knows. Chick nuzzles into Dales leg, a kiss slipped in somewhere, and Dale pats the cars hood. Slowly, Dale chambers back onto the hood of the car, splaying horizontally on his back. 

An awkward relationship, there only so much a car can take before it breaks. Chick is more than broken, he is destroyed. Any okay part of him left from when he was sane took refugee in the concept of love. Love for the mechanic that fixed him only to be broken again, that led him to his pen after punishment, mental and physical. Love for the mechanic that was always quiet, scared of saying something wrong. Love for Dale. 

Dale was silent in pity and fear, for himself and the cars, though mostly for the cars. He worked mainly on Chick, and through that, years of physical trust had been built. Derek's Love for Chick was of lifetime friendship amidst all danger and hiding. He knows not what Chicks love for him truly is within the spontaneousness of the car turned wild from captivity, other than that it is a love as strong and dedicated as no other. 

They know each other like no other, an odd pair in a world where cars are simply toys or slaves. And so even as adrenaline kicks in, Dale feels no fear in the presence of Chicks bursts of crazedness. 

Now the car watches the world with wary, twitching eyes. He'd last only half an hour before they had to get moving, or risk a breakdown on the cars behalf. Dale waves, catching the green cars attention. 

"Good morning." 

The car blinks, focusing on his object of affection and relaxing yet again. The car draws a deep breath as a sort of lulled peace washes over him. 

"Good."

Dale draws a grin from somewhere deep, and they hold onto it as long as possible. Any day Chick can speak from morning on is a great day. Dale knows all cars hold sentience akin to humans, but years of pain seemed to strip Chick of coherent thoughts. Words were a sign of healing. 

The smile fades. One thing Chick could do, for better or for worse, was function and process thoughts fed to him. Dale speaks with a voice kept intentionally level and void of emotion while he still had the summer green cars attention. 

"We've ought to get money today. I'll get it for us, somehow. I'll hide you. I'll do menial tasks, or pickpocket. Perhaps that."

They've come to theft a couple of times this past month, and each time, Chick has the same reaction. A melting smile of his own, flashes of fear and rapid blinking, anger and a low growl, each emotion interchanging in a matter of seconds, lasting for the entirety of a minute. At one point, one morning, Dale had asked. 

"Hey, hold on. Hold. On. What are you feeling?"

Minutes passed, Chick staring at Dale and into nothing, then finding the human. 

"Anger."

"Why?... Why?"

Another pause of a multitude of minutes.

"Humans. Hide." The car twitched his lips, gasping, and Dale worried for an oncoming panic attack. Then the motions drop. 

"And?" 

"Fear. Hiding."

Another silence. 

"Joy. Your, voice."

Conversations always pierced Dales heart. Today, Chick forms a sentence. 

"Steal good. Humans don't deserve good."

The sentence is filled with fury, and is stilted and paused randomly. But still, it's good. It's progress. Dale does not have to ask if he is an exception as a human. 

"We need to get out of here. Risk-find a road." Dale explains. 

Fear flashes again. As risky as traveling hidden and off-road is for Chicks parts it is just as much for traveling on genuine roads for fear of recognition. Humans ride within cars down roads daily, and while the racing of cars is looked down upon and largely ignored by cars, it is a widely popular sport with humans. The best aid would be to find a car accomplice willing to mark out a map of roads used mainly by cars without humans. However, that was highly unlikely, the punishment for aiding a runaway car too great, the fear of such punishment too persistent. Dale grunts and sits up then stands beside Chick, who constantly tracks Dales movements. It would be unnerving if the man didn't know it was part of how Chick stayed grounded. Years of isolation in empty white rooms left Chick desperately in need of another living, real being to ensure he was truly in a 'real' place. Dale was his lifeboat to a whole new extreme. 

Now Dale moves to Chicks passenger door, gripping the handle slow and long as warning before opening the door. As Dale enters, Chick purrs, always enjoying the concept of Dale within his cab. Like that, Chick could protect his human better than ever. The comfort is brief though, Dale grabbing around the back before exiting and shutting Chicks passenger door. The purr of his engine silences. 

Dale moves behind Chick and asks. "Roof?"

"Yes."

With that permission, Dale climbs first upon Chicks trunk, and then on top of the cars roof. Chick, even as jumpy as he was when it came to physical touch, strived off of such contact with Dale, and the male human would much rather be sat atop a cold metal car with winter clothes for spring as opposed to sitting on natural Earth, destroying and ruining faster his small collection of apparel. Sitting crisscrossed, Dale spreads his loot from within Chick in front of him. There is a can of Campbell soup, of the chicken variety, and a pack of cigarettes missing only two of its stock. Dale withdraws a cigarette now, pulling a lighter from an inner pocket of his coat. He flicks to life a small flame, and Chick twitches at the sound. Dale pats the car comfortingly as he lights the rolled tobacco. 

He takes a deep drag, barely accommodating the acrid smoke flooding his lungs as Chick droops down to the floor, a sure sign of the car attempting to ponder. Dale waits patiently, slowly exhaling and each inhalation another drag. Eventually, he stops, allowing himself a few breaths of hazy oxygen mixed with smoke, before taking another drag. Now, surrounded in a fog of second-hand smoke, Chick speaks. 

"Smoke because of me? Often? Bad. Bad. Bad." The car is voicing his thoughts angrily, but truly feels shame at himself. Dale knows. 

Dale sighs. He regrets explaining smoking to Chick and it's side effects, even against his own refusal to withhold information. No matter how many times Dale reminds him that the serious harms are only after serious long term smoking, Chick commonly frets over each and every rare cigarette Dale pulls. Most especially, Chick worries over himself being the cause for Dale smoking. Dale releases one more sigh. 

"Hey, it's all good. First time this month." 

"Me?"

"Never."

"Why?"

"Having to steal."

"Revenge."

"Still wrong."

Chick grumbles, and Dale chuckles, patting the cars roof. He stubs the cigarette out against his own shoes, before tossing it to the ground. Now effectively calm, lungs scorched, he takes out his pocket knife and works at the lid of the can of tomato soup. He stabs and carves, working out a hole large enough he can drink from. 

They sit in silence, Chick lowering himself to the ground and taking contentment in the physical presence of Dale, Dale finishing up his breakfast. After, Dale clambers off of Chick and opens his trunk, retrieving a can of oil with a metal straw that comes pre-attached. This he offers to Chick to consume, which the car accepts without meeting his gaze. Another quirk, he refused to eat until after Dale. 

By now the sun glared between leaves, and they knew it was time to start the tedious day. Long hours of picking their way out of the forest, squeezing through tree after tree, hours of traveling the first discovered road in the hopes of coming across civilization. 

The start of one day in many of an arduous adventure to soon build a life for themselves. 


End file.
